Duchess By Night
Page 69

She didn’t expect people to love her: she expected them to fear her. To bow and scrape before her. That was why she loved being Cope so much. It set her free, in the same way that not being a woman set her free.
“A duchess,” he said, fury burning its welcome into his heart.
She inclined her head. It was a duchess’s nod. But there was a tear sliding down her cheek.
“You pretended to be other than you are—why?” But he knew, he knew. “I’m not good enough for a duchess. You deceived me, day after day—because of rank?”
“It wasn’t rank. You are—yourself,” she said. “And I am a bird of a different feather, for all I pretended to be someone I’m not.”
“You’re saying I fell in love with an illusion.”
“Something like that.”
“And you? Did you fall in love with an illusion too, Harriet?”
“No. You never lied to me. I don’t think you’re capable of lying, Jem.”
He folded his arms because it was ungraceful to clench one’s fists in polite conversation. Especially with a duchess, one had to presume. “Ironic as this may seem, I would have thought it below myself to pretend to a lower rank than my own. I gave you myself, such as I am.”
“I know you did,” she cried. “You have been utterly honest with me. This is your life, and—and that’s wonderful. You love your life. And—and that’s wonderful. Truly. I—I’m a fool, that’s all.”
“Would you mind explicating the nature of your foolishness?”
She looked at him for a moment, as if she were memorizing his face. His heart turned over. She was really going to do it. She was going to leave him.
“You’re—you’re the only gentleman I’ve ever met who truly doesn’t care about rank.”
“So?”
“I honor that. But I can’t live like this.”
Jem felt his tone hardening before he even said it. He knew why she couldn’t live in a house without rank: she was a duchess, for God’s sake. That would be like giving away her most precious possession. “Like what?”
“In a house in which people just come and go, like some sort of changing play. You don’t even know all of them, Jem.”
“They’re not good enough for a duchess. I completely understand.”
“It’s not a question of good. Well, perhaps it is.” He could see her make some sort of decision. She looked up at him. “I’m a staid person, at the heart, Jem. All I ever wanted, really, was to have some children and a husband who loved me. That was it. I never—”
She turned away but he saw the gleam of tears again and it tore his heart.
“I never dreamed I would be as wild as I’ve been here. Playing primero for huge stakes, having an affaire…It’s not me. But I also—I can’t live with people like the Graces, not for the long term. I don’t want to be in a house that is an inn for itinerant players and drunk jugglers, not to mention the scientists and politicians. Yet I loved every moment of it. It’s changed me, changed my life. I don’t blame my husband for dying any more.”
Ice and anger slammed into his heart. “I am happy that Eugenia and I could be of use to you.”
“Don’t—Don’t—” she cried, holding out her hand. “Don’t leave in anger.”
“You lied to me. I thought you were the widow of a farmer—” He spat the word. “—and all along you were merely playing with the hoi polloi. Amusing yourself with me.”
“It wasn’t like that!”
Bitterness seized his throat. “Do you know what I think about people, Harriet? I think the worst lie was not when you pretended to be a dumpy widow. I have that phrase right, don’t I?”
Her face was stark white. “I am—”
“Stop it,” he said through clenched teeth. “It was when you pretended to be a squire’s wife. Villiers was having his little duke’s game, bringing along two duchesses. I don’t know why I didn’t see that; it’s just the kind of twisted humor people of your rank appreciate.”
“It wasn’t a joke!”
“It was the kind of joke that only a duke would appreciate,” he said tonelessly. “I know Eugenia won’t.”
“Oh, you mustn’t say that to her. It’s not true!”
He just looked at her, and the silence grew bitter and thick between them. “I’ll try to keep the uglier parts of the truth from Eugenia. You go, back to the duchy. I’ll stay here. And God, I hope that we never meet again.”
Her face was tear-stained, but she kept her chin high. “I don’t see what I did that was so terrible, that deserves this level of rage.”
“I loved you. I thought I knew you. My anger should be at myself, not at you. I will endeavor to make it so.” And then he said, “If you’ll forgive me, I have an appointment.”
“Wait!”
He waited while she tried to say something that got caught on a sob, raised her head again. “Are you sure you—couldn’t you come with me, Jem? I love you. I love you so much.”
It was maddening to feel sorry for her. To still feel love for her, even. She was a liar who entered his house and amused herself with him.
“I’m not a toy that can be bought,” he told her, finally. “I’m a man with a large estate and a child.”
“And a house party,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “Don’t forget all your guests.”
“I have a life. It’s not a perfect life, and it’s not a duke’s life, but it’s my own. I am Lord Strange. I earned my reputation and—”
She interrupted him. “You didn’t! And you know you didn’t! I don’t believe you slept with any woman since Sally died. Did you?”
“My lovers are irrelevant.”
“Did you!” she shrieked at him.
“Only once.”
“So why—why couldn’t you just love me, instead of all these other people?” Her voice choked again. “Why do you need the Game so much?”
“I loved the person you presented yourself as—a funny, wise, intelligent person who loved learning to fence and ride and play poker. But that person’s not real.” He felt merciless, and yet it had to be said. “You’re a duchess. You’re not Harry.”
“You knew I wasn’t Harry!”
“I thought you were someone I could love,” he said flatly. “And someone who loved being here, with me. But you’re right. A duchess can’t have anything to do with Lord Strange. No duchess should ever darken the door of this house. You shouldn’t have come.”
He left her small white face behind him, and walked away. Her voice stopped him at the door.
“I love you.” Her voice didn’t even tremble. “I may have misrepresented myself, and I suppose you can’t forgive me. Or don’t want to forgive me. But I saw you for what you are and could be, Jem, and I love you. I want you to know that.”
His eyes burned suddenly so he didn’t turn around. “You saw me for a loose screw who welcomes riff-raff into his house. That’s not what you want.”